The Face of Fear
by RaineStorme
Summary: The death of her first baby still all-too fresh in her memory, Anne struggles with fear when she discovers she is pregnant with a second child. How can she bring herself to tell Gilbert, when she might lose this baby as well, and once again dash their ho


Summary: The death of her first baby still all-too fresh in her  
memory, Anne struggles with fear when she discovers she is  
pregnant with a second child. How can she bring herself to tell  
Gilbert, when she might lose this baby as well, and once again  
dash their hope of children to pieces?  
  
Author's Notes: There is sexual content in this story, hence  
the R rating, but I promise none of it is vulgar or tasteless.  
It is merely the love shared between husband and wife and an  
important part of this story. I truly hope it will be taken  
as such by the readers and that no offense will result. Know  
that I hold the highest respect for LM Montgomery's characters.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within this story.  
No infringement intended.  
  
----------------  
The Face of Fear  
----------------  
  
Gilbert watched Anne prepare for bed with a peculiar smile on  
his face. Her pale hands moved a brush through her soft hair  
mechanically, and she seemed to be caught up in one of her  
daydreams. She stared vacantly through the mirror, seeing  
nothing before her except her own thoughts as she absently  
began braiding her hair.  
  
"Why don't you leave it down tonight?" Gilbert suggested, for  
he liked to feel its softness between his fingers as he slept.  
  
"Hmmm?" came the absent reply. Anne focused her eyes and  
turned towards her husband, still braiding her hair.  
  
Gilbert chuckled lightly, ever in awe of her ability to  
completely lose herself in her daydreams. "Where were you  
just now, Anne-girl? In Spain with a handsome prince, seeking  
out kindred spirits amongst the royalty, drowning in diamonds  
all the while?"  
  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous." She smiled teasingly, turning  
back towards the mirror. "It was sapphires and emeralds that  
I was fancying myself drowning in. You know I dislike diamonds."  
  
The young doctor smiled at his wife. It was good to see her  
in pleasant spirits. She had not smiled without strain in  
weeks. Approaching her from behind, he stilled the movements  
of her hands with a light touch and began unraveling her braids,  
intent on running his fingers through her hair that night. She  
watched him in the mirror, an unreadable expression taking form  
on her features, neither happy nor sad. Gilbert's smile faded  
quickly when he saw it.  
  
She'd worn the expression for months now, the young Doctor  
Blythe had noticed, and he openly admitted to close friends  
his worry for his wife, despite the cheerful facade she would  
sometimes offer him. Gilbert had asked her with frankness if  
she was unhappy, and surprised, she had exclaimed, "Of course  
I'm happy!" But the expression still stubbornly clung to her  
face. Little by little, Gilbert had come to realize the true  
meaning behind her peculiar behavior.  
  
He first began to suspect that she was pregnant the morning he  
had come home at dawn from a late call, exhausted and ready to  
crawl under the covers. He watched as Anne, pale and trembling,  
recovered from what appeared to be morning sickness. "It's  
nothing," she had told him with a weak voice as he helped her  
back to bed. "My dinner just didn't agree with me last night."  
  
That night, he awoke to find his wife weeping quietly at his  
side, her face buried in her pillow in abject misery. Reaching  
for her in the dark, he held her close, quietly demanding to  
know what was wrong. "It's nothing," she explained, tears still  
sliding down her drawn countenance. "Only a nightmare." The next  
morning, she was up before the sun had even seen fit to grace the  
sky, sick again.  
  
Thin-lipped and pale, Anne said nothing to Gilbert or Susan,  
though both were fairly certain exactly what was ailing the  
beloved "Mrs. Doctor, dear." Gilbert waited patiently, thinking  
perhaps she needed time to be sure, or come to grips with being  
with child again, after losing her first baby so soon after birth.  
He remained watchful of her, making sure Susan did not allow Anne  
to overexert herself when he wasn't there to watch her himself.  
  
The first month passed into the second, and not once had Anne  
refused him in bed with the claim that "now was not the  
appropriate time." She made other excuses at times, but never  
that one. He made love to her with extreme gentleness during  
those months, always mindful of her face to see if there was  
any pain or discomfort written there. Eternally, the same  
indiscernible look remained on her face. Little did he know  
it was the face of fear that clung perpetually to her wan  
features.  
  
His thoughts falling back to the present, Gilbert watched Anne  
silently in the mirror as he ran a brush through her hair,  
smoothing the braids he had unraveled into a long mane of soft,  
red curls that he loved to admire. When he finished, he set the  
brush down, and his hands fell to her shoulders. Anne's eyes  
drifted shut as he began to slowly massage them. She lurched  
slightly when he found and carefully assailed a knot but said  
nothing.  
  
"Just relax," he offered his wife gently. "You've been needing  
this for a while, haven't you? You're very tense."  
  
"Am I?" she responded emptily, her words seeming like more of a  
statement than a question. Gilbert said something in response,  
but she did not hear him. He watched her drift once more into  
the solemn dream world she'd been steadily drowning in for over  
two months. With a frustrated sigh, he stepped away from her,  
unbuttoning his shirt in haste to prepare for bed.  
  
"I wouldn't give up you and our House of Dreams for anything, Gil,"  
Anne said suddenly after her long silence, her eyes still blank  
as she spoke. She turned and reached out for him, kissing his  
slightly stubbled cheek tenderly when he came to her. "Not for  
all the princes, royalty, and jewels Spain ever had to offer."  
She hesitated slightly, her eyes trying to meet his, but failing  
miserably for reasons he did not understand. "You know that,  
right?"  
  
"Anne..." he replied softly, "I was only teasing about all of that."  
When she didn't respond, he sat down with her on the edge of her  
vanity chair and lifted up her chin to make her look at him. "I  
love you, Anne-girl. You know *that*, right?"  
  
With a sad smile, she buried her face in his chest as he embraced  
her. "I was lonesome for you today," she admitted apologetically,  
for she did not like him to worry over her. "I'm so glad you're  
here with me tonight. Maybe no one will call for you."  
  
"I've missed you, too," Gilbert whispered into her hair before  
pulling her into a kiss. He was a bit surprised when she  
responded by leaning into the kiss, wrapping her arms around  
his neck to pull him closer. It had been so long since she had  
responded to his kisses that he couldn't help but let his mouth  
linger on hers. He pulled her into his lap like a child, his  
lips never leaving hers, and there they sat, each taking much-  
needed comfort in the other.  
  
She *had* missed him dreadfully that day, she realized. More  
than she could ever communicate to him in words, so she attempted  
to show him in other ways. She'd been so unresponsive to him  
lately, what with her mind raging with troubled thoughts. He  
deserved, and probably needed, a night simply devoted to them.  
Besides, it would (and already had) help her get her mind off  
of...of...her situation.  
  
Bit by bit, their kisses began to become slower and deeper.  
His tongue stroked hers with aching slowness, drawing Anne's  
body impossibly closer to his with each passing moment. They  
had lost themselves in such kisses for hours upon hours in the  
early days of their marriage, but Gilbert was exhausted after  
a long day's work and wanted to take his wife and his weary  
body to bed. Ever cautious, he gently lifted Anne into his  
arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her down.  
Absently kicking off his shoes, he arranged his body over  
hers with care, not putting too much of his weight anywhere.  
Their kissing commenced again with renewed intensity, and his  
hands slowly crept from her face downward to cup her breasts  
through the thin material of her nightgown.  
  
Tearing away from the kiss, she hissed in pain and pushed  
his hands away. "Oh, Anne!" Gilbert exclaimed, taken by  
surprise at her reaction. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"  
  
Anne's cheeks burned in humiliation, seeing the alarm on his  
face. Suddenly a wave of nausea swept through her at the  
thought of her husband receiving yet another clue to her  
true condition, and her weak hold on a pleasant mood quickly  
fled her. "It's not your fault. I'm a little sore, I guess,"  
she said weakly, as her arms crossed protectively over her  
chest. "I-I'm sorry, Gilbert. I don't think I can do this  
tonight. I don't feel good all of the sudden."  
  
With a nod, he moved off of her, and she rolled onto her side,  
facing away from him in embarrassment. He rubbed her back  
comfortingly as he nuzzled her hair, letting her know without  
words that it was okay...that he all he wanted in the world  
was to simply be with her then and there, and he could do  
without the rest just fine.  
  
At the sight of tears in her eyes, Gilbert's heart quite  
literally plummeted to the floor. "I'm so sorry, Anne.  
I didn't mean to hurt you. Honestly. You know I would never--"  
  
"Oh, Gil. It's not that," she whispered in response, stubbornly  
willing the tears not to fall, for she knew they deeply hurt him.  
"It didn't hurt that bad. I was just surprised. I promise. You  
didn't do a thing wrong."  
  
The hand that had been rubbing her back moved around her waist  
to gently rub her stomach. She tensed under his hand. "You  
really aren't feeling good, are you?" he asked, watching her  
face contort in something that resembled pain. Biting her lip  
against something unpleasant, she nodded. "Nausea?" he guessed,  
noting her hand was on her throat as she swallowed with difficulty.  
  
Again she nodded, and immediately, Gilbert arose to fetch two wet  
washcloths. Laying her on her back, he placed one on her forehead  
to cool her and one on her throat to fight back the nausea. After  
opening the window to let in the night breeze, he sat on the edge of  
the bed and fanned her with a folded newspaper, knowing how well a  
cool breeze could sooth a queasy stomach.  
  
Anne bore it all in silence, her tears carefully wiped away, one  
by one, by her husband's hand. The night breeze was cool, and  
Gilbert's presence was comforting. Being born of anxiety rather  
than actual sickness, the nausea soon departed when her raging  
thoughts began to slow. When the unpleasant feeling slowly left  
her, Gilbert held a glass of milk to her lips, which he ordered  
her to sip slowly. She took his careful ministrations without a  
word except to thank him for his concern.  
  
"Feeling better?" Gilbert asked quietly, sensing that she wanted  
to rest. She nodded weakly, a distant look once again tainting  
her gaze. "Anne..." he spoke gently, hoping to ease her out of  
her obviously anxious thoughts, "what are you so afraid of?" Her  
eyes closed as if she was pained, and Gilbert's concern increased  
all the more. "I just want to help you. I'm worried to death  
about you."  
  
"I...I'm caught, Gil..." she whispered unhappily, "caught in a  
trap, and...I can't get out..."  
  
----------------------  
Untimely Author's Note: *sporting a leisure suit, sequined cape,  
and Elvis hair, Raine begins to sing...* Because I love you too  
much, baby...  
----------------------  
  
Gilbert gazed at her drawn face intently, as something akin to  
relief flooded through him, daring to hope her words meant that  
she was ready to open up to him at last. "Tell me what's on  
your heart, darling, and we'll see if I can't remember some old  
words of wisdom to ease your mind."  
  
"You know what's wrong with me," she replied reluctantly. "I can  
see it in your eyes that you know and have known for weeks. I  
don't see how you could have not seen it. It's so obvious, and  
I haven't exactly been hiding it."  
  
His eyes fell to her stomach with frankness. "I'll admit I've  
had my suspicions, but I was waiting for a word from you to  
confirm them."  
  
Anne bit her lip, as she fought to be brave, but the tears came  
anyway. Words began to spill out of her mouth that she had no  
control over. "I'm so scared, Gil. So scared. I can't bear to  
lose another one. I can't...I can't..."  
  
He gathered her into his arms and held her as she sobbed out  
all the fears that had been raging in her mind since the death  
of Joyce. Some of them were so outrageous and ridiculous that  
Gilbert wanted to shake the sense back into her, but some of the  
other things she said were so soberingly real, the young doctor  
felt a twinge of fear similar to Anne's start in his own heart.  
Determined that his family would live a happy existence, he  
quickly put to death those fears and promptly sought to do the  
same to Anne's fears as well.  
  
"Who says you're going to lose the baby, Darling?" he breathed  
quietly into her hair.  
  
"I lost Joy," Anne remarked miserably. "What if I'm not meant  
to have children?"  
  
"But you did have a child," he reminded her. "A beautiful little  
girl with sweet eyes, whom we both love as dearly now as we would  
if she were sleeping in our arms. Now God has blessed and  
entrusted us with a second one to love."  
  
Anne would not be comforted. "I do love Joy, Gilbert, but  
I'm still afraid. I'll bet you think me wicked for not wanting  
a child. I wouldn't blame you either. I've been selfish, and  
I'm so ashamed."  
  
"No, Darling," he replied, "I don't think you wicked or selfish.  
You're just anxious and uncertain. I'm just sorry that I didn't  
realize the extent of your distress sooner. We could have had  
this talk even before our second child was in the making."  
  
Those words brought memories back to them both. Anne had not  
let Gilbert touch her for weeks after her recovery from her first  
pregnancy. He did not push or pressure her, nor would he have done  
so under any circumstance. Gilbert knew then that his wife was  
dismayed at the thought of becoming pregnant again so soon, and  
he could understand that. He knew that in time she would come to  
grips with the loss of Joyce and would want to try again for  
children. He could be patient. After all, hadn't Anne herself  
been won only after years of hard work? She was certainly worth  
it. Why should children be any different? Having them in his lap  
one day would be reward enough for waiting for Anne to be ready  
to try again.  
  
He did not have to wait long. She allowed him to make love to  
her again eventually, which he did with painstaking care and  
wariness (probably even more than he'd used the night of their  
wedding), distressed about hurting her for fear she was still  
sore from the difficult childbirth. She cried in silence the  
whole time but said nothing as she desperately clung to him.  
It was not tears of pain that she cried. Soon her quiet tears  
slowed, and she fell into a deep sleep, warm in his arms. It  
was then that Gilbert wept...for his lost child and for his wife.  
  
Since then, Anne took no pleasure in lovemaking, as she had when  
they were first married, even though Gilbert tried desperately  
to make her respond. She lay so stiff and tense beneath him,  
one could hardly call it "making love." Knowing that her behavior  
upset Gilbert and hurt him, Anne tried telling him that it was all  
right, that she did not mind. Those words angered him inside and  
caused him to try all the more to pleasure his wife. He spend many  
long nights trying to determine where he had gone wrong, as Anne's  
slept at his side, the softness of her naked body perfectly fitting  
the contours of his own, her arm resting lightly on his chest,  
fingers curled slightly, the dampness of tears still clinging  
to her cheeks. If he had to go on like this, knowing Anne was  
plagued with a deep depression he never dreamed a woman like  
his wife could be capable of possessing, Gilbert felt would go  
mad. He wanted to shake her and tell her that even though their  
child was dead, she was still eternally alive in their hearts and  
thoughts.  
  
No, he ultimately decided. Anne already knew that. She just  
needed time to mourn, and Gilbert would be a fiend to deny her  
that. He was still mourning himself, but chose to cope with it  
by pouring himself into the care and well-being of his wife rather  
than fall into depression.  
  
The quiet tears that fell down Anne's cheeks when they made  
love slowed eventually, giving her husband a small amount of  
comfort, but she soon became clingy instead, often burying her  
face in his chest, hiding from reality. He did not want to  
encourage such behavior but didn't have the heart to refuse  
her. So he held her and kissed her and whispered the sweet  
nothings she always seemed to want, and need, to hear.  
  
The clinging behavior abruptly stopped the morning he found  
her ill, and once again, Anne pushed affection away. She had  
already suspected that she was with child once again, and the  
morning sickness confirmed those suspicions with a horrible sense  
of fear. She cried violently when neither Gilbert or Susan were  
home and settled for quiet tears behind a closed door when they  
were. In their presence, she steeled herself against emotion,  
not knowing how in the world she was going to break the news to  
Gilbert without dissolving into tears. He would be so disappointed  
in her weakness and fear, she thought as shame slowly burned  
through her, leaving her as weak as a pile of ashes.  
  
But perhaps he already knew, she thought, but that gave her  
no comfort, for he said nothing to her if he did. He was waiting  
for her to break the news if he did indeed know, and that was  
something she dreaded with everything within her. What was she  
to do? How long would Gilbert continue to act the part of the  
ignorant husband before she began to show? Before her old  
maternity dresses would be taken out of the attic? Before the  
horrible pains of birth began to rip through her? Surely he  
would guess that she was not speaking of her condition to him  
for a good reason, save her the heartache, and begin speaking  
as though he knew. Life could move on just as if she had actually  
told him herself. But Anne had more sense than that. It was her  
duty to tell her husband of his child, and as soon as she felt  
she could handle it, she would. She just needed time. Lots of  
it.  
  
Now Gilbert knew for certain, confirmed by her words, and Anne  
felt like a fool. She had sorely misjudged her husband, thinking  
he would be angry with her for her fears. The chest she was held  
against was warm, and the hands rubbing up and down the length of  
her back were soothing. She let him rock her back and forth like  
a child (like the child she had been acting like, she thought  
bitterly). He whispered things to her tired mind that were so  
sweet and soft, her throat ached. Drowning in love for him, she  
sought out his lips and found their soft, warm folds waiting  
patiently for her kiss.  
  
They leaned back onto the bed as one, and Gilbert pressed her  
tiny body carefully into the pillows. Their lips never parted  
as their fingers slowly fumbled with buttons, neither in a hurry  
for the moment to be over, the moment when they truly made love  
again after so long. Their clothes melted away, piece by piece,  
and Gilbert looked appreciatively over the body of his wife as if  
it were their wedding night again, thinking it was unfair for all  
the other men in the world, that he should have been the winner  
of such a beautiful prize.  
  
His mouth sought out the warm hallow of her throat, where he  
found her pulse hammering excitedly. Down his lips traveled,  
leaving a trail of hot kisses across the beautifully white  
expanse of her chest. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair  
when his lips found the sweet tip of her breast. With  
excruciating care, he suckled her gently, knowing how sore she  
was. Anne writhed in pleasure as he claimed the other breast,  
feeling the burning heat of his tongue dragging against her  
sensitive flesh, lapping at her swollen nipple like some sort  
of cat. She stifled a giggle at the thought.  
  
Gilbert, unaware that his wife was fancying him a prowling  
lion, moved down further still, and Anne gasped when she felt  
his burning kisses across her abdomen, where their child slept.  
He laid his cheek there for a moment, his eyes closing in a  
silent, thankful prayer for his wife and baby. Awakened from  
his reverie by a soft hand running over his cheek and a sweet  
whisper of love from his wife, Gilbert gazed at Anne with  
adoring devotion, and replied with admission of his own love.  
  
His fingers tangled in the soft thatch of red curls at the  
apex of her thighs, as he moved to claim her sweet lips once  
again. He slid into her warmth with ease, and both let out a  
slow breath of ecstasy as their bodies joined. The pace he  
took was agonizingly slow, for he knew that, despite Anne's  
shy responses, deliberately slow and thorough lovemaking satisfied  
her deeply. His hands caressed her face as he kissed her deeply,  
moving with maddening slowness within her, pressing himself with  
careful force against the sensitive area between her thighs to  
bring about as much pleasure for her as she was stirring in him.  
Though she never cried out when they made love, no matter what  
he was doing to her, Gilbert always knew whether or not she was  
enjoying it by the way she held him. Tonight, her arms hugged  
him as close as possible, and her fingers gripped his shoulders  
tightly when he pressed himself against her with deliberateness.  
Gilbert, knowing he was bringing her pleasure, treasured her  
soft, quiet gasps that sounded against his lips. Already satisfied  
beyond comprehension, he buried his face in her soft, red hair.  
  
Anne, no longer having his mouth upon hers to concern herself  
with, watched in her vanity mirror as his bottom slowly moved  
up and down and thought it a very cute bottom. Again, she felt  
the sudden urge to giggle, and stifled it just in time. Why on  
earth, at such a time as this, did she feel so ridiculously  
whimsical? She supposed it was the sudden and needed release  
from the horrible burden she'd been carrying, but nevertheless,  
she should be serious and reserved and matronly. Instead she  
was admiring her husband's derriere. But it was such a cute  
derriere...how could she help it? Unable to control herself  
any longer, she burst into much-needed laughter.  
  
"What on earth could be funny to you at this moment in time,  
Anne-girl?" grumbled her husband unappreciatively.  
  
And that only made her laughter increase, but her amusement was  
quickly overtaken as an unguarded moan of pleasure slipped from  
her as Gilbert, indignant at her behavior, found his way impossibly  
deeper within her. She narrowly restrained herself from clamping  
a hand over her mouth. She had never uttered so much as a whimper  
in all the time she had shared Gilbert's bed! It was unladylike!  
Now it was Gilbert who laughed as he looked upon his wife's  
horrified face, for he knew exactly what she was thinking.  
  
They laughed at themselves and kissed and spent the rest of  
the night showing each other exactly how deeply their love ran.  
Anne slept well that night, her heart lighter than it had been  
in months, knowing that a child, *their* child, grew safe and  
warm within her, and that the man who held her so tenderly in  
the crook of his arm loved her as much as she loved him, as  
impossible as that seemed to her, for she loved him so very  
deeply. The last thought she had before sleep claimed her as  
its own was that Gilbert was going to make a wonderful father,  
and a sigh of peace eased from her throat.  
  
  
The End 


End file.
